The first thing I notice when I arrive at Fred Carmel’s is that the parking lot is nearly empty. Well, I think, most everybody around here has already been to the carnival. Still, this is Saturday.… Then I see that a wooden sawhorse has been placed across the entrance. I stand at the sawhorse and peer ahead.

What a strange day this has been. My house was too quiet this morning, and now the carnival is way too quiet.

I shade my eyes with a sweaty hand. I don’t see much, but after a moment I hear some banging, like the sound of workmen. And then I see a couple of trucks driving around the carnival grounds. The only time I ever saw a vehicle inside the carnival was when the ambulance came for Adam last weekend.

The sawhorse has been put up as a barrier to keep people out of the carnival, but I climb over it anyway. I don’t think anyone will mind if I come in to look for Leila. I haven’t walked very far when I realize that the reason the carnival is so quiet is because it is closing down. The rides are still. The game booths are nearly empty, the last of the prizes that hung on the walls being packed away. And the only people walking around are Leila’s relatives and the other workers. They are so busy taking things down and packing things up that they don’t notice me.

With a tight feeling in my chest I make my way to the Cahns’ trailer. I walk and walk, but I can’t find it, and now I am sure I am standing exactly where the trailer should be parked. Maybe the trailers have been moved to another part of the carnival, I think. I am wondering where that might be when I hear someone call my name.

“Hattie!”

I see Leila’s uncle Jace striding toward me, a hammer in his hand.

“Hey!” I exclaim. “Hi. I was just looking for Leila. I hope it’s okay that I came in.”

“It’s all right,” says Jace, “but Leila isn’t here anymore.”

My chest tightens a little further. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve gone ahead. To Maryland.”

“Gone ahead?”

“The carnival’s going to be outside of Bethesda for the next few weeks. We’re closing here and we’ll be on our way tomorrow. But Leila and Lamar and their folks left yesterday. They’re going to visit Leila’s aunt for a day or two before we get set up again.”

I cannot think of a single word to say.

“Hattie?” says Jace.

I shake my head. I am not about to cry in front of him. I start to run.

“Hattie!” I hear Jace call.

I run and run and run. I run through the carnival, through the parking lot, and all the way to Marquand Park, where, if I am lucky, nobody will be sitting on the bench by the duck pond and I will have it to myself for a while.

The park is not deserted like the carnival is; still, not many people are around. Too hot, I think. I slide onto the empty bench and watch the ducks trail around in the murky water.

Two words slip into my head.

Damn Nana.

I have never thought such words before. But there they are.

Leila is gone, and I didn’t get to say good-bye to her, didn’t get to explain why I couldn’t see her all week. And it is Nana’s fault. Does Leila think I am mad at her? Does she think I blame her for what happened?

I feel tears prick at my eyes but I don’t let them fall until I am certain that no one is nearby, and that even the ducks have turned their backs.

I sit there and cry and cry as silently as possible, finally wiping my eyes and nose with the back of my hand like I am three years old.

The only thing that makes me feel a little better is realizing that Leila’s uncle and the others are still here in Millerton, will certainly be here until tomorrow at least. So I can write a letter to Leila, tell her everything, tell her good-bye, tell her I’ll miss her, tell her she was one of the few friends I ever made. And I can take the letter to Jace in the morning and he can give it to Leila in Maryland.

I sit there for a long time, writing the letter in my head. Dear Leila, My grandmother wouldn’t let me see you last week because you are a circus child. And I couldn’t call you because you don’t have a phone. And I never even invited you over, so you don’t know where I live.

What kind of friends were Leila and I anyway? What kind of friend was I?

I sigh, look around for something to toss to the ducks, and see a piece of bread they have overlooked. I throw it into the pond, but don’t stay to watch the ducks discover it. I walk home, taking the longest possible route, since I am absolutely positive Nana has called my parents by now to tell them what I have done, to say, “What was Hattie thinking?”

My long, long route eventually takes me down an avenue that intersects with Nana and Papa’s street. When I reach their corner I tell myself to stare straight ahead, not even to glance at their house. But a police cruiser turns the corner and I just have to see where it is going. I stand at the curb and watch. And it pulls into Nana and Papa’s driveway. Before its engine has even been turned off, a policeman jumps out of the passenger side, slams the door shut, and hurries along the front walk. Papa meets him at the door.

I do not know whether I am welcome at Nana and Papa’s now, but I have to find out what is going on. I reach their front door just as the officer who had been driving the cruiser leaps up the porch steps in one bound.

“Papa?” I say.

Papa is standing in the open doorway talking to the officers. Nana is hovering behind him in the front hall.

“Hattie!” exclaims Nana. “Thank God.”

“What? What?” I say.

“Have you seen Adam?” Papa asks me.

“Adam? I thought he came home.”

“He did,” says Nana. “But he left not long after that, and he was so upset.… I called your parents. They haven’t seen him all day. I’ve called everywhere. I was hoping he was with you.”

“No. I haven’t seen him either. I mean, not since he ran back here.”

“Where have you been all afternoon?” Papa asks. He grips my shoulder so hard, it hurts, and I back away from him.

“I — I went to the carnival first, but it’s closed.” I shoot an angry look at Nana. “And then I went to Marquand Park, and then I walked around town.”

“And you didn’t see Adam anywhere?” says one of the officers.

“No.”

The policemen and Nana and Papa look at one another.

“I think we’d better come inside, Mr. Mercer,” says one of the officers. He pulls a notepad out of his pocket.

“Hattie, you go on home,” says Nana. “Go straight home.”

“Okay,” I say.

Adam is a grown-up, and technically he has not been gone long enough to be considered a missing person. On the other hand, Adam is Adam, and he is the son of Hayden and Harriet Mercer, so the search for him begins immediately. The police go off in their cruiser. Mom and Dad drive around in our Ford.

I am told to stay at home.

“Why couldn’t I go with them?” I ask Miss Hagerty as we have a cup of tea in her room. Miss Hagerty has made the tea this time, and she keeps telling me how soothing and relaxing tea can be in times of stress.

It is late evening. Cookie stayed past her quitting time in order to serve dinner to Mr. Penny and Miss Hagerty and the Strowskys and me.

I notice that Angel Valentine is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m sure your parents want you at home in case Adam turns up here,” Miss Hagerty replies.

I’m not so sure. I think Nana has decided that I can’t be trusted with Adam after all. I think she wants me out of the way.

“Miss Hagerty, what is wrong with Adam?”

Miss Hagerty puts down her teacup and looks at me for a long time. “You know, I’m not sure, Dearie. I don’t think anyone has ever told me. He’s just … funny.” Miss Hagerty taps the side of her head. “I believe you would say he is mentally ill.”

I sigh. Funny. Mentally ill. These words are not helpful. I decide not to ask Miss Hagerty if mental illness can run in a family.

When we have finished our tea, it is time for Miss Hagerty to begin her beauty regime. I take our cups downstairs to the kitchen. Later I sit on the front porch and look at the moon. I’m pretty sure Angel Valentine is not home. When she does come back, I hope Mom and Dad give her a good talking-to.

I am still looking at the moon when the front door opens and someone settles beside me on the porch swing.

Catherine.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” she says.

I glance at her. “Thanks.” I don’t know how much she knows about Adam. “He has some problems.”

“I bet they’ll find him soon.”

“Probably.”

Catherine looks at the moon with me.

“I’m sorry about your father,” I say at last.

“He had a heart attack. He went to work like usual one day, and then his boss found him slumped over his desk. He was dead.”

I nod. Catherine and I have both found out how quickly our world can swing between what is comfortable and familiar and what is unexpected and horrifying.

At nine-thirty Mrs. Strowsky calls Catherine inside. I continue to sit on the swing. I look at my watch about every five minutes. Almost ten-fifteen and Mom and Dad still have not come home. Finally I go upstairs to bed. I have just fallen asleep when I hear my door open, and light from the hallway falls across my face.

“Hattie?” says Mom.

I sit up, immediately wide awake. “Did you find him?”

Dad appears behind her in the doorway. They step into my room, and before they have even sat on my bed I know that they have news for me and it is very bad.

I put my hands over my ears. “Don’t tell me,” I say. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Very gently, Mom pulls my hands down. Then she gathers me against her. I can feel Dad stroking my hair.

“The police found Adam,” says Mom.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Mom doesn’t answer, and I feel her tears on my cheek.

“He is, Hattie,” says Dad.

“What happened?”

“He hung himself. In the shed behind Nana and Papa’s.”

I am sad. But I am not very surprised.